


Meeting halfway, and the thwarting of other wiles

by MrsCaulfield, theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)



Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [36]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awake the Snake (Good Omens), Awake the Snake Pt 3, Floor Sex, Letter Reading, Love Confessions, M/M, Meeting in the Middle, Multiple Sex Positions, Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), lockdown with a hopeful ending, lovingly beta'd, post-lockdown, soft n horny supreme, they're switches but crowley tops in this one, traumatized plants (though we don't really talk about this), vivarium sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCaulfield/pseuds/MrsCaulfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm
Summary: "There were many ways to meet in the middle. One would think, as beings of Heaven and Hell itself, that Aziraphale and Crowley would by now have perfected them. But meeting in the middle was not so much a skill as it was a language, spoken in words and beyond words."The sequel to 'My Dear Crowley,...' in which snakes are awakened, letters are read, and deepest, truest feelings are confessed.And, oh yes. Sex is had.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515578
Comments: 14
Kudos: 191
Collections: Top Crowley Library





	Meeting halfway, and the thwarting of other wiles

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My Dear Crowley,...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741480) by [theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm). 



> Hello! As this is a sequel, it's vital that you read the first fic (above) for the complete content of Aziraphale's letters. Also, it'll make the feelings stronger. Trust me on this.

To his credit, Crowley beat his own alarm by a full five seconds.

That said, a full five seconds after a solid six months of sleep, punctuated only by the first alarm waking him in July, was barely enough time for him to form a coherent thought. He’d opened his eyes and just _lain there,_ like a tragically outdated laptop struggling to boot up. Just as he was about to wonder what time it was, the alarm went off. It gave Crowley a savage sense of pride, like he’d won a competition of sorts, only nobody else was playing.

And then it occurred to him that that was A Thought, and the thought of That was also A Thought, and before he knew it he was on a roll. Thinking. As one did when they were awake and fully conscious.

To his _dis_ credit, Crowley lingered in bed for a full fifteen minutes. Once you got those thoughts going, you couldn’t really stop. He wondered if all the madness was over. There was still something Bad in the air, he could feel it; a bit fainter than before, but he was certain if he stood outside it would be much more noticeable. He wondered what had gotten worse in his absence. Mostly he was debating whether or not it was worth it to actually get up. And then, quite easily, he thought “Wonder how Aziraphale’s doing.”

Just like that, he found himself swinging out of bed and onto his feet.

 _Feet._ Ah, yes. Crowley wobbled and swayed, only just regaining his balance. Legs. Still got legs. They had quite fallen asleep, just as the rest of Crowley had been asleep. Miracles— still got those, too. He flicked his wrist and the blinds rolled themselves up with a hasty snap, letting in broad daylight. Outside, a grey and gloomy day fast on the downward slide to autumn.

That was when Crowley noticed something different about the room. It was...tidy. Not the usual sparse sort of tidy, but a fussy, everything-must-be-just-so-or-we’re-no-better-than-animals tidy. The clothes he’d shed when he changed into his pyjamas were folded neatly at the edge of the bed. The room was warm, even though the miracle Crowley had done to keep the temperature steady before he went to sleep should have worn off by now. The pillows were _fluffy._

And the flat bore a faint, familiar scent. Angel.

Aziraphale had been here, Crowley realised with a jolt. And he just missed him! When? And how often? It couldn’t have been more than a couple of months ago. The scent was wearing off, but he’d know it anywhere. _Angel. Angel was here. That bastard, probably checking up on me, likely thinks I’ll get up to mischief even in my sleep._ And there was also an odd, giddy thought that sprang up, like an unwanted visitor. _Angel was here! He cared. Now I must talk to him, mustn’t I? Yes. That’s the first thing I’m gonna do._

But first— a trip to the loo.

* * *

Aziraphale was in the middle of shelving his beloved Discworld collection when the phone rang.

His first reaction was to stifle a groan. At this hour the callers were, more often than not, persnickety buyers who had two intentions: to find and purchase a rare book with the single-mindedness of a great white shark following a blood scent, and if there happened to be obstacles in the way of purchasing said book (and Aziraphale would make damn sure there would be hurdles), to subject the bookseller to all kinds of verbal abuse and complaints. No, Aziraphale did not have time for such nonsense. But he did have a business to run.

Then it occurred to him that today was the first day of October.

He hastily put the books down somewhere safe before practically skidding over to his desk, snatching the phone up in mid-ring. "Hello?"

Miracles of miracles. "It's me."

Aziraphale was nothing short of ecstatic. _It's him! It's really him. He's awake!_

"Crowley!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, and then, in a much more normal tone, "Good morning, dear boy."

"Hey." There was a trace of a chuckle in Crowley's voice. "So...listen--"

"I really don't want to trouble you," Aziraphale blurted out, "but in case you haven't a proper examination of- of the state of things, I ought to let you know they aren't really much better than--"

"Aziraphale."

"--so if you don't feel up to staying awake again this time, I completely understand--"

"Aziraphale." Crowley's voice cut him off. "I- I read them. Read them all. Your letters, I mean."

The letters.

Right...the letters. Aziraphale had left them all on the coffee table in Crowley's flat the first time he had come in to check up on the plants. He had done that, of course, with the intention of letting Crowley read them, but it was still nerve-wracking to hear that his hopes had come true.

Aziraphale swallowed, hoping the anticipatory blush creeping up his neck and cheeks didn't somehow have an odd effect on his voice. "You did? Already?"

"Well, yeah.”

"Oh."

What on earth was he supposed to say? What were any of them supposed to say? That was kind of the point, wasn't it? It had always been too difficult to say out loud, that's why Aziraphale had written them down in the first place. But now Crowley was taking a huge step, reading all of them-- all of them! In one sitting!-- and not coming to the shop as Aziraphale had anticipated, but calling him directly.

Crowley broke the silence with an awkward, throaty sort of noise. "I think we ought to talk," he said gently.

"We're talking now," squeaked the angel.

"No. You know what I mean," mumbled Crowley.

A silence, the line breaker just before the part of a story where everything is about to change. 

"Right," Aziraphale responded. His turn to meet Crowley halfway now. "I suppose I'd better come over, then."

* * *

There were many ways to meet in the middle. One would think, as beings of Heaven and Hell itself, that Aziraphale and Crowley would by now have perfected them. But meeting in the middle was not so much a skill as it was a language, spoken in words and beyond words. Crowley was a fast learner, having spoken it with near fluency for centuries. For millennia. He had been the one to approach Aziraphale in Eden. The one to propose the Arrangement and godfathering the Antichrist together. The demon may not have had much in the way of words, but he spoke through other means. _(A case of prophecy books that should have shattered but didn't; a thermos filled with what should not have been needed, but was.)_

Now it was Aziraphale's turn to respond, but this language did not come easy. It was one thing to bare one's heart in the protective spell of ink and paper. One thing to leave behind that heart to the one who had come to own it, over the years. And one thing to let the duration of two months elapse without thinking more of it.

But it was another thing entirely to confront it all now, to return to that heart and find it assessed and examined, still out in the cold where he'd left it. Nerve-wracking wouldn't have begun to describe it. Despite all that, as he stood in the foyer of Crowley's flat, Aziraphale could not help thinking that somehow, six thousand years of dithering about this dance of a language only they could speak, had all led him to _this_ very moment.

And when he lifted up a hand, the door gave way to him before he could knock.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, pointlessly tugging at his bowtie for something to fiddle with. A stream of muted light slipped through the opened crack, and it was to this light he spoke.

"My dear boy," he began, because one of them had to. He inhaled deeply. "May I come in?"

A moment of silence, lasting a beat too long and finally, a mumbled "Yes."

He stepped inside as though everything was new. Like it was his first time. It was difficult to imagine how just a couple of months ago he’d been to this exact room without invitation, and without Crowley's knowledge.

What must Crowley think of him now? Doubt easily crept up his throat, having had decades of practice. But he reminded himself that Crowley had read his letters. All his letters. And after everything he'd done for Aziraphale, even that was more than enough.

When at last he allowed himself to get a good look at the demon, his breathing snagged.

Crowley stood by his throne, halfway to being impeccably dressed, like he'd given up somewhere along the way. Like he could, at any moment, crawl into bed and go back to sleep.

Aziraphale could see that he was frightened, and he knew it was his turn to be brave.

"Crowley, after all this time, it may come as a shock to you that I—"

"Did you mean it?" His voice cracked, whether from disuse or some emotion was left to Aziraphale's imagination.

"Are you referring to the letters?"

Crowley's expression grew dim, casting shadows over the room. " 'Course I meant the letters."

"How could you even ask that?" They both winced. The answer was loud and clear in the form of a memory of a conversation at a bandstand, some few small infinities ago. "I mean it, Crowley." 

He could feel the telltale signs of precaution traveling up his spine, but they were useless now. There was nothing now that Aziraphale wanted to hide, so he took the moment to correct his previous speech.

"I _love_ you, Crowley."

Another beat of silence.

"If this is your idea of a joke--”

Aziraphale was by his side in a flash, closing the distance and meeting. _Meeting_. He swayed close to Crowley's side. As close as he could without touching him. Careful, still, after all this time.

"I meant every word." Seeing that Crowley was still withdrawn, he added: "But I do not blame you. I must confess to doubting the letters myself. It would be quite a feat to construct words that encapsulate how much you mean to me. How much I love you. For that, I am afraid, not all the pages in the world could suffice."

Crowley didn’t meet his eyes. For a moment Aziraphale was certain he’d done something terrible, after all. He quickly pushed those thoughts away. _I was honest. I told the truth. I didn’t do anything wrong._

Unless being honest was the wrong thing, in the first place. 

He watched Crowley turn the letters over and over in his hand, shuffle them behind each other in a never-ending, fidgety loop of half-folded paper and dried ink. “I read them all,” he said, and his voice shook. “You kind of went through a rough time.”

Aziraphale gave him a tight smile. “I rather did. I felt lonely. And useless. I- I missed you.” 

And then Crowley actually sniffled, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Do you need a minute?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Nnggghh, yeah.”

“Cup of tea?” Aziraphale asked helpfully. 

Crowley’s bony shoulders shrugged. “Sure.”

Now this, at least, Aziraphale knew how to do. He got up and went into Crowley’s spacious kitchen. That said, he always wondered why Crowley even had a kitchen; if the demon wanted to eat, which was rare anyway, he’d go out or order in, or go and bother Aziraphale until the angel conceded to treating him to lunch (or the other way around.) Aziraphale opened one of Crowley’s cupboards, and a miracle ensured it would lead right into one of the cupboards back at the bookshop. Box of tea leaves, half of a Bundt cake. He busied himself with making the tea. 

Meanwhile at his desk, Crowley tried desperately to remember what it was like to not see the world through a thin glaze of tears. 

They were _supposed_ to be talking. Crowley was the one who suggested it, after all. Maybe it was too soon? Maybe he should have just waited. Here he was, going too fast again, except this time he was heading into something _he_ wasn’t ready for. After all, if the letters were any indication, Aziraphale was already there. 

Boy, what a way to spend your first few waking hours. 

“Here, my dear,” Aziraphale said lightly, jolting Crowley softly out of his anxious spiral. Crowley looked up to see the angel setting down a slice of cake and a steaming teacup on the coffee table some paces away. Like a child being called in to lunch after playing outside, he padded over to Aziraphale’s side.

This was it, he realised wearily. This was the sentiment of Aziraphale’s letters finally being expressed in real life. He said he wanted to take care of Crowley, and now he was. 

_Say something, you absolute knob._

He felt like his knees wanted to stop working, so he sat down with a palm face down on the cold floor and his legs sprawled before him.

The angel followed suit, though with far more elegance than Crowley had shown. He sat down beside him, smiling. He took the cup of tea in non-trembling, pudgy hands and pressed it into Crowley's grasp. _(When had he even brought up his hands?)_

"Take a sip, my dear."

Aziraphale's gentle tone snapped him out of some trance, and he drank the scalding liquid without tasting anything.

"Slow down," remarked the angel, his eyes widening, expressing genuine concern. "That's piping hot, you'll burn yourself!"

Crowley looked down at the cup to see that it had already been drained. There was a faint tickle at the back of his throat and he felt a little bit like coughing, but otherwise he wasn't in any discomfort.

Aziraphale's gaze bounced and shifted around. "Ah. Forget I said anything, then." His hands wrenched and pulled at his waistcoat in mesmerising motions.

And here Crowley realised that he still hadn't said anything, so he opened his mouth.

"How long have you known?"

Aziraphale met his gaze and worked on keeping his heart still. He'd already decided to be honest with Crowley, but it was still a challenge for him to get used to baring such sentiments.

"I wasn't entirely sure until recently, and by the time I did become certain, I was already far gone in it. If you go back to the letters, I think you can pinpoint the exact moment that I- "

"That's not what I meant," interjected Crowley. "l'm asking how long have you known that _l'm_ in love with you, too."

It was a bit hard to make out in the dim lighting of Crowley's expansive flat, but if Aziraphale squinted, he could attest to there being the most delicate shade of pink to Crowley's cheeks.

His heartbeat quickened. _(There was no use attempting to rein it in now.)_ Crowley wasn't looking at him.

Instead, he bore a hole into the floor like it had personally offended him, and Aziraphale didn't think he could love his wily serpent even more.

Before he could change his mind, he laid a hand on top of Crowley's on the floor. Firm and steady.

"Do you promise not to get cross?"

Slowly, Crowley lifted his chin and nodded once.

"1941," Aziraphale breathed. "You saved my books."

"l'd have never heard the end of it if they’d blown up," he said blankly.

Aziraphale let out a soft chuckle. "Only you would have remembered something like that at the time."

He stroked the back of Crowley's hand, coaxing until it relaxed.

"That doesn't mean I was in love with you." Crowley turned over his palm, and their fingers naturally weaved into each other. 

Aziraphale couldn't help the indignant huff that escaped him. "It absolutely does!"

Crowley scoffed, his thumb tentatively sweeping over Aziraphale's own. "Does not."

"It does! And it didn't start there. It must've started around-let's see... around _Hamlet,_ at least."

" _Hamlet?_ Getting cocky now, are we?"

Aziraphale was starting to get annoyed, and Crowley decided not to take it any further than that.

"Earlier.”

Aziraphale softened visibly. "Earlier than _Hamlet?_ "

"Much earlier.”

The light was gradually returning to the angel's face. _Beautiful. Always._

"I'm sorry," he replied shyly.

Crowley shrugged it off. "S'not like we could have done anything about it. Wasn't your fault and it-" he brought up their joined hands, "-all worked out in the end, didn't it? Our own side now."

"Yes," Aziraphale whispered in awe, staring down at their hands with a lingering smile. "You and me, always. I'll never leave you, my love."

Crowley was thrown back against the coffee table's edge. _My love_. How in Heaven's bloody halls was he supposed to get used to that?

More importantly, how was he supposed to respond?

How did one take 6000 years of relentless pining and chasing, ball it up into one's fist, and use it as fuel to come up with words to properly describe it?

"Yeah, you're stuck with me," grumbled Crowley. "Don't go anywhere."

Aziraphale beamed at him. That hadn't been so hard.

"So long as you don't hole up in here again," replied the angel, a tinge of sadness to his tone. "Not that I mind looking after you, but it is a bit difficult to, ah, manage."

Crowley gestured towards the entirely spotless flat. "You seem to have managed alright to me."

The angel responded with a roll of his eyes. "The cleaning hadn't been too difficult. You barely make any messes."

His gaze flitted around and settled on one long hallway leading to his garden. "I wasn't quite sure what to do with the plants, though."

Crowley jolted from the ground, up on his feet immediately. He'd forgotten to check on the plants!

He ran down the length of the corridor with Aziraphale in tow, muttering various apologies. They reached the vivarium and, to their surprise, found the plants lush and verdant as ever.

"What the..."

At the first drop of Crowley's voice, every single shoot in the room stood a little straighter, standing at attention. They were evidently much easier to rouse out of slumber than their master had been.

Aziraphale took hold of his hand.

“Not quite sure what to do with the plants?!” Crowley said incredulously, destroying what would have been a tender moment. He turned to Aziraphale. “You’ve been _nice_ to them.” 

“No such thing,” said Aziraphale, but he was holding back a smile. 

Crowley moved across the room, dragging Aziraphale along after him. Aziraphale found that he did not mind, one bit; in fact, he liked it now, Crowley zooming about and taking him along instead of waiting around restlessly or leaving him in the dust. He watched as Crowley inspected each plant with sharp scrutiny. 

“They’re doing well.” 

“So it seems.”

“They’re not dying.” A hint of relief in his voice. “Have you been spoiling them?” 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale chuckled. “The little darlings took care of themselves. I was rather clueless about it all, but they pulled through.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I think they’re so fond of you, they stuck around. The important things in life will do that, you know?”

This time Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, like a reward. “Yeah. I know.”

The next time he looked around at the plants, Crowley actually seemed rather affectionate. Proud, even. Then he let go of Aziraphale’s hand and settled down on the floor, one elbow on a raised knee, and then, eventually, decided to lie on his back with a catlike stretch. 

“C’mon,” he said comfortably, inviting Aziraphale to join him. Confused, but appreciative, Aziraphale followed suit. 

Crowley watched him, every one of his clumsy, fluttery little movements as he sat down and stretched out next to the demon. He lay with his fingers laced together on top of his sternum, just above the plush curve of his belly. From this angle, tilting your face up to the ceiling, you could see the sunlight straggling in through a frosted-glass skylight. It created a muted, grey tone throughout the vivarium while ensuring the more tropical plants got the warmth from the sun. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to sleep again,” sighed Aziraphale anxiously. 

Crowley chuckled, “Gonna miss me, Angel?” When he saw the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth pull down, he took it back. “Too soon. Sorry.”

“Of course, it’s entirely up to you if that’s what you wish to do,” Aziraphale said softly, “I just...You do know, you’ve read the letters. It’s been difficult.”

“Yeah, I know,” mumbled Crowley. His hand found Aziraphale’s again. “Look. ‘m sorry, okay? I should’ve thought about you before I buggered off like that. I didn’t think you’d mind it. Maybe you’d even prefer it, I dunno. I didn’t even—“ he looked at Aziraphale, golden eyes dull under the soft light. “The stuff you said. Wanting to be with me. Look after me. Kiss me and, uh, stuff. Didn’t even think you’d ever feel like that. About me.” 

“Well, it did take me a dreadful long time to come to that conclusion,” Aziraphale said quietly. “So. Thank you for waiting.” 

Another squeeze of the hand. “Worth it.”

“You’re still entirely free to continue your demonic activity, you know. Now that you’re awake I’m sure you’ll think of something.” 

“You _really_ missed having wiles to thwart, didn’t you?” teased Crowley.

“Well...well maybe it would help things to get back to normal!” Aziraphale sputtered, as the demon laughed heartily. 

“I’ll show you, then,” he declared. “Anthony J. Crowley is back in business. Watch out, London! I’m going to shake things up, once I figure out a decent plan…” 

“You fiend,” Aziraphale said, propping himself up on one elbow with an expression that was utterly loving and utterly fond. “You ridiculous, absurd, darling boy.”

And just like that, there it was: a first kiss, six thousand years long in coming. The soft, plump, glossy press of Aziraphale’s lips to Crowley’s like they had been doing it for years, and perhaps they should have been. As early as the Blitz. As early as Hamlet. Even before that. It did take Crowley a while to realise, past the initial _Oh that’s nice,_ what was really happening, and with a strangled “Ngk!” He pulled away. And then, realising the stupidity of what he just did, he leaned in to kiss Aziraphale again, the pair of them half-kneeling, half-sitting on the vivarium floor.

“You thought about this, didn’t you?” Crowley couldn’t help but whisper, a grin forming on his face. It made Aziraphale blush. 

“Of course I did. Did you dream about it?” Thinking about kissing Crowley, Aziraphale realised, had nothing on the real thing. Crowley was so very warm, and soft with sleep, and his breath and his voice were gentle. 

“A few times. Sort of,” Crowley mumbled. “I dreamed that you would disappear after I kissed you.” 

Aziraphale moved in again, pressing Crowley’s hands flat against his chest. He kissed him again fervently. “I’m not going to disappear,” he whispered against the demon’s lips. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to leave you.”

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder like he was collapsing after running a marathon. “Bloody good.”

Somehow, Aziraphale’s arms wound up around his shoulders, one hand traveling up to clasp overgrown strands of red hair. Each touch sent warmth flooding inside the cavity of his chest. Aziraphale’s hand in his hair, the press of his forehead onto a welcoming shoulder, and the rhythmic beating of a fluttering heart pressing into his fingertips.

Each touch was real.

_I can’t believe I get to have this._

Aziraphale had gotten lost in the sensation of wispy strands running through his fingers, and he paused when he caught a particular tangle which snagged on his grip, lightly tugging on Crowley’s scalp.

He was startled by the curl of arousal that flared in his gut, almost demanding. The demon released a high-pitched whine, shaky and renewed. His head shot up from Aziraphale’s shoulder, serpent eyes blown wide.

“My dear, I’m sor—”

Crowley devoured his mouth into a searing kiss that had the angel moaning straight into his mouth.

Their first kiss was slow and romantic, a union of two souls which had been orbiting the other since time immemorial.

Their first kiss was a release. Yielding. Lavishing.

For their first kiss, they met in the middle.

This kiss was anything but that. Rather than meeting, it was Crowley who clutched Aziraphale’s waistcoat as though his dear immortal life depended on it. Each press of his mouth landed on whichever part of Aziraphale he could reach, and each landing had him leaning more and more over the angel, pushing him back, back, back until he had him laid down on the floor, wispy blond curls against stone grey, and darkened eyes peering up at him with just as much curiosity as there was unabashed desire.

Dear _Someone_ , this angel would be the absolute end of him. His very beginning, his reason to keep going, and his eventual demise.

Aziraphale’s palm went up to caress the side of his jaw with a reverent touch.

“Darling, you are so beautiful.” Aziraphale truly had never seen a more gorgeous sight. Crowley had never been more himself than at this very moment, hovering above him with a hungry yet tentative look. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Bewildered, Crowley could do no more than clasp Aziraphale’s hand and turn his head to press a lingering kiss on his wrist, eyes fluttering shut. “Me too,” he whispered.

“Will you do me a favour, my love?”

The endearment was a bolt of lightning, spreading fire in his veins, lighting up all at once. He mumbled against the smooth skin of Aziraphale’s wrist, a patch which strongly bore his comforting scent. “Will do anything for you, angel.”

“Don’t hold back.”

Aziraphale’s gaze was steady, his voice gentle as it always was, in the rare moments that Crowley could steal any scrap of intimacy from him.

But he didn't have to do that anymore, as stunning as that realisation was. Before he had gone to sleep, Crowley would not have believed it if anyone had told him he'd have a literal angel sprawled out beneath him on the day he'd wake up. But not only was that exactly the case, with the damning _evidence_ currently held in his arms and filling his sight, there was also a stack of letters somewhere on his desk to serve as a testament to it.

"Crowley?" whispered the angel, wondering why his partner had spaced out all of a sudden.

Crowley shook his head, golden eyes blinking slowly.

"Just need a moment to remind myself of this."

"Of what?" Inquired the angel.

"That I don't have to be hedging and evading anything anymore. Had enough of that."

Aziraphale's hands gripped at his slender waist, sliding down to tug the hem of his shirt. A strangled whine escaped Crowley when firm hands settled on his bare stomach.

"We've both had enough, my dear," said the angel smugly. Crowley had the strongest urge to bite that smirk off his delectable mouth. "Now if you would please?"

Crowley lunged at him, placing quick nips at his earlobe and sucking it into his warm mouth. The pleasant squeak that he elicited out of Aziraphale was pretty much the best sound he'd ever heard.

Aziraphale's breathing came in stuttered and heavy gasps as Crowley shifted on top of him, slotting their hips together. He could feel Crowley's erection pressing onto his thigh and he let out a loud moan, hitching a leg over Crowley's thigh to welcome it onto his own hardening prick.

Crowley's mouth on his ear fell open, his moan reverberating in Aziraphale's mind, and wasn’t that just wonderful? He should very much like to hear the full extent of sounds that Crowley could make in this state.

"My darling," he gasped, pressing his nose into Crowley's cheek. "You sound delightful."

"You--" Crowley cut himself off with a sharp gasp as Aziraphale rolled his hips, their erections finding insufficient reprieve, "--y'feel so _good_ , angel."

Pleasant warmth radiated from his core, filling him gradually. He curled his toes in pleasure and trailed wet, open mouthed kisses on the underside of Crowley's jaw. "You deserve to feel good, my love."

The angel's wandering hands trailed up to the planes of Crowley's chest, hitching up his shirt to reveal more skin while Crowley captured his mouth once again into an urgent kiss. Crowley's tongue dove straight into his mouth, and he frantically tugged at Aziraphale's clothes until the angel huffed, brought out one hand from the confines of Crowley's shirt, and got rid of their clothes with a downward flick of his wrist.

Crowley let out a surprised noise. He broke off the kiss, staring openly at the angel. "Aren't we eager?"

"We were going to get to this stage eventually," Aziraphale replied haughtily, peering up Crowley with an innocent expression. "I was only helping things along."

Crowley chuckled. "You are--" he dipped his hips, grinding forcefully on Aziraphale and earning him a loud and sharp gasp which trailed off into a needy whine. "--Far too coherent for my taste." 

His hand made a straight path down to grab Aziraphale's breast, the tip of a nub rubbing onto Crowley's hot palm, and Aziraphale let out another beautiful whine, arching his back to press into Crowley's touch.

Crowley gave him a devious grin. "That's much better."

"Crow-ley, please..." 

He could drink in the sight of the angel, mouth hanging open to heavy gasps and feathery brows scrunched up in pleasure, for _decades_. "Fuck, angel. You're gorgeous. Can't believe I lasted this long without seeing you like this."

A faint blush spread over Aziraphale's cheeks.

Crowley nipped playfully at his neck, sucking on the crook of his shoulder. Aziraphale tilted his head, sighing.

Crowley's hand kept squeezing his tit, rolling the nipple between long, bony fingers and he didn't know how much longer he could last. Their hips moved into each other at a steady pace, and a knot was forming from the pit of his stomach.

"I love you!" Aziraphale gasped when Crowley bit into his shoulder. 

And that was all the tipping point that Crowley needed. He reached down to grab Aziraphale's thigh, hiking it up and folding it at the knee. His leaking member pressed against Aziraphale's entrance, teasing.

Aziraphale looked up at him with a dazed expression. 

Crowley let out a low growl. "Careful what you say with that pretty mouth of yours," he said, voice hoarse with evident desire. The tip of his cock went inside Aziraphale's entrance for a fleeting moment, and the angel's eyes rolled up and clamped shut as he let out a lewd moan. "I could take you like this, just as you are." Crowley drew his hips back.

Aziraphale scowled at him, his lips pursed in disappointment. "Then what on earth are you waiting for?"

Crowley laughed softly. He'd pictured this moment many times before, and though he’d expected the angel to be demanding, he had no idea that he'd be so needy as well. It felt like retribution somehow, after all those years of pining after Aziraphale. All the denials and rejections. It was nice to be needed for once. 

It was also the sexiest thing he'd ever seen on Aziraphale.

"Anything for you, my angel," he said with mock flourish that had Aziraphale rolling his eyes. He slipped in once again, surprised at how easily Aziraphale yielded to him. Crowley heaved in a shuddering breath. "Fuckfuckfuck. So tight, holy _shit._ "

Aziraphale had already prepped himself open. His angel was a bloody _bastard_.

" _Yes!_ " Gasped the angel, his head thrown back onto the cold floor, letting out a sharp, lengthy moan that had the plants all around them shivering. "Yes, my love, take me."

Crowley made a few experimental thrusts, slow and assessing. It was subtle, but with each thrust, Aziraphale let out a faint gasp, his brows furrowing. Crowley grit his teeth and pulled out. 

"...Crowley? Did I do something--"

"On your hands and knees, dove."

Aziraphale didn't question him. He turned around, facing a row of verdant green plants, his hair glowing under the skylight.

Crowley pushed back in, fully sheathing himself inside Aziraphale. They gasped at the same time. This angle was much easier, with Crowley being able to roll his hips until he found that spot of pleasure that drove Aziraphale mad. Soon the angel was babbling, his elbows quivering with the effort to hold himself up, and his back arched beautifully, head turned up towards the Heavens. _(One beautiful spot of irony.)_

"Yes! Crowley, oh, _fuck._ "

Crowley nearly cummed right there from hearing the angel's filthy mouth. He picked up his pace, ramming deeper and hitting that spot with every thrust. He was so warm and so fucking _tight_. The angel's raspy moans urged him even closer to his own release. He couldn't last long now, but he had to make this good for Aziraphale too.

"Angel." Crowley pulled out again, and Aziraphale whined at the loss. He tugged at Aziraphale's waist and sat back, pulling him along.

Aziraphale's gaze was hazy with desire, a delicate flush blanketing his face all the way down to his chest. His lips were swollen from being bitten, his hair sticking out at all angles. He was the perfect depiction of _debauched angel_. The image Crowley had imagined for the many long years he’d spent wanting to unravel him.

"I--what?" asked Aziraphale, dazed. 

Crowley sat down on the floor, guiding Aziraphale to straddle his lap. Aziraphale went willingly, lowering himself on his hips and pressing chest to chest with Crowley, mewling softly.

Crowley placed a kiss on his cheek. "Go on, then," he said softly.

Aziraphale was confused for a couple of moments, blinking blearily as though he was the one who'd been asleep for five months. Then, he regained his senses. Clutching Crowley's shoulders, he sank down on Crowley's slick member, sighing when he had him fully inside once again. 

_What a picture,_ thought Crowley as the angel bounced on his prick, the filtering light from the ceiling encasing his golden hair like a halo. Aziraphale leaned over his shoulder, gasping into his ear as he approached orgasm. His strong thighs picked up speed, pumping Crowley's length with a marked enthusiasm that Crowley should have expected from a hedonist such as his beautiful principality.

Crowley held onto his thighs and began to meet his thrusts, pushing up into him. 

"C-Crowley, you-ah! You feel marvelous. F-fit so nice." Aziraphale's hot breath was on his neck, increasingly desperate moans muffled into his shoulder. "You can't leave me again, Crowley, say that you won't!"

"Never, my angel," answered Crowley, meeting him in the middle once again. His hand trailed down Aziraphale's spine. "M'here. For as long as you'll have me. Let go for me, dove."

With a final, keening moan, Aziraphale spilled all over Crowley's chest, his prick twitching as Crowley fucked him through his orgasm before he, too, reached his climax.

Crowley moaned as Aziraphale clenched all around him, milking him dry. They took a couple of minutes to ride out their pleasure, surrounded by shuddering plants all around.

Aziraphale got up from his lap and went to sit by his side. Crowley could swear that he was literally glowing.

The angel glanced shyly at the strings of cum all over Crowley's chest and stomach. "Oh dear, let me take care of that."

His fingers were poised to snap when Crowley caught his wrist and dipped them onto the pool of cum on his chest, cold and sticky. Aziraphale could only watch, his jaw hanging open, as Crowley brought his hand up to his mouth, sucking Aziraphale's spend off of them.

"I like it better this way," the demon said cheekily.

Aziraphale's face went scarlet, and his erection stirred once again between his thighs. As it turns out, six thousand years of suppression made for quite the appetite. He groaned as Crowley repeated the action on his hand, running them down to collect more of his cum and sucking them dry, Crowley's expert tongue flicking over the pads of his fingers.

"You tease," huffed Aziraphale. "We both know you've much better use for that tongue of yours." Neither of them could deny that he was fully hard again.

"Oh?" Crowley asked mockingly, releasing Aziraphale's fingers from his mouth with a loud pop. "I'm afraid I don't know. M'just a lowly demon, after all. Would you care to show me?"

Aziraphale captured his mouth into a tender kiss, contrasting with the urgency of their previous activities. But it didn't matter whether they were going slow or fast now. Not when, finally, they had all the time in the world.

He smiled into Crowley’s lips. "I would gladly show you that and more, my love." 

Crowley stole another kiss from. "Best to get it over with, then."

"Indeed."

"I love you. More than anything."

Aziraphale feigned a gasp. "Oh dear, what are we to do with that?"

"I thought you would know."

"Well, I suppose..." Aziraphale's fingers trailed up his arm, stopping at the juncture of his collarbone. He bit his lip to suppress a grin. "You leave me no choice but to love you just as much."

"Really? Cause I've a bunch of letters stating evidence to the contrary."

Aziraphale scowled. " _Hmp._ "

"What was it again? Oh yes, my eyes were honey. Sparkling _topaz._ "

Aziraphale shot up on his feet, and Crowley feared he'd taken it a step too far.

Then, Aziraphale was tugging on his arm.

"Angel?" 

Next thing he knew, he was being dragged across his flat by one angry Principality.

"You are insufferable like this. Get on the bed so I can fuck that- that smirk off of you!"

Crowley's topaz eyes went wide, and his feet went from dragging to bouncing on their toes.

"Ngk! Y-yes, angel, you got it."

* * *

“Well...that was a thing.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, the softness of the side of his body all pressed up against the lean length of Crowley’s. They’d kicked off sheets and flung off pillows and left stains on the mattress and, admittedly, the headboard as well. Aziraphale, as it turned out, was capable of giving as good as he got. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago they were slamming into each other with the intensity of waves against a cliff. Now they lay comfortably against each other, soaked in sweat and coming down from the delicious high. 

“You should know, my dear, this is the happiest I’ve been in six months. The happiest I’ve been since we saved the world,” Aziraphale murmured. “The...the happiest I’ve been _ever_ , really.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” 

“Really and truly?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well. Same.” 

With a lazy upward flick of the wrist, Crowley cleaned them up entirely. He pressed a gentle kiss to the damp fluff of Aziraphale’s hair, let the angel run a finger slowly over the hairs on his chest. 

Boy, what a way to spend your first waking hours. 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said at length. “I think I...oh, never mind.” 

“What? You can tell me,” Crowley said, his voice heart-wrenchingly honest and gentle, like when he’d said _you can stay at my place, if you like_ all those months ago.

“I feel a little bit…” Aziraphale’s face scrunched up in mild embarrassment, “peckish.” 

Crowley could not hold back his laughter. “Peckish? Really?” 

“Well, we did have quite a strenuous last few hours,” Aziraphale said. “I do feel that at least a snack is in order. At least before we go again.” 

“Alright, if you put it that way,” Crowley chuckled. He sat up. “I think you left some cake in the kitchen, didn’t you?” 

“Ooh, yes.” 

“And it’s my turn to make you some tea. Need to soothe your throat after...well, you know.” Crowley quirked his eyebrows at Aziraphale, recalling the recent memory of the angel’s head bobbing diligently between his legs.

Aziraphale turned red. “Oh, you.” 

Crowley pulled him to his feet. He found a pair of black silk robes for the both of them, and Aziraphale put his on eagerly, pleased to be wearing something of Crowley’s. It made him feel like he belonged to him. 

In the kitchen they soon had a kettle whistling and the cake warming in the oven. When it was ready they settled down on a tall table with matching stools near a big window with a view of the rooftops and grey skies over Mayfair. 

Aziraphale was already on his second bite when he realised something. “Crowley, did you always have this table?”

Crowley looked up. “Eh?”

“I’ve never noticed it before. Did it just...appear?” 

Crowley looked around it with an expression of mild puzzlement. “I dunno. Might’ve.” 

“A table for two, next to a big window?” Aziraphale peered at him amusedly from over the rim of his tea mug. 

“I guess it just felt right,” Crowley said lightly, skipping over the awkwardness with ease and pleased with himself for not fumbling it this time. “After all, I suspect you’ll be hanging around a lot more often now.” 

“Yes. Thwarting your wiles,” Aziraphale teased. 

“Hey. No fair of you to start while I haven’t done anything yet,” argued Crowley. 

“One could say that staying here and distracting you would effectively prevent you from doing any wiles at all.”

“Oh yeah? And what would you distract me with, pray tell? Oh, bloody hell,” groaned Crowley, leaning back in his chair as Aziraphale cheerfully pulled out a penny and tried to make it disappear. “Not the magic! Forget I asked.” 

“Very well, then. I shall have to settle for parading about in your flat. In the _nude_.” 

Aziraphale smiled smugly, watching Crowley spit out his tea and sputter. Finally he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and broke into helpless laughter. Aziraphale laughed too, chuckling softly as their fingers laced on the tabletop. The grey walls of the flat echoed with the sound of their joy.

Things were looking up. Not everywhere, for sure, and not for everyone, but here in their perfect little space, here _on their own side_ , things were looking up in a way they hadn’t for six thousand years. Hey, shit-storms were brewing on all sides of the world. Somewhere Pestilence was having a little welcome-back party all his own. But Aziraphale was right when he’d said that their side meant the humans, too; and all talk of wiles and thwarting aside, when it came down to it, both angel and demon would always put humanity first. 

Now that, Crowley thought contentedly, was something worth staying awake for.

**Author's Note:**

> CREDITS:  
> This fic is brought to you by myself and the incomparable MrsCaulfield AKA @angelsnuffbox on Twitter! I couldn't have done this without her.
> 
> Beta'd lovingly by the brilliant @flamingbentleyy on Twitter <3
> 
> Working title: Untitled Floor Sex Fic
> 
> **
> 
> _MrsCaulfield: It was so lovely working with you, theycallmeDernhelm! That first fic was so well-written and just utterly destroyed me, thank you so much for giving me this chance to provide them the happiest of endings hehe <3 It is such an honor! _
> 
> **  
> We appreciate your comments!


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